Tea with Lennon
by thewetbandit
Summary: Michelle is staying in a London hotel for her sixteenth birthday when a knock comes at the bathroom door from a certain Beatle who needs to wee. Not ATU. Just for fun!


**TEA WITH LENNON**

Damn! Hardly any toilet roll. What would I do? There was nothing I could do. I opened my purse and pulled out my pink handkerchief. It had my name, Michelle, embroidered in the corner and had been a birthday gift from my little brother, Tom. Oh well. Needs must and all that.

I washed my hands. While I dried between my fingers, a knock came at the door. Bloody hell! Didn't the fool know that someone was in here?

'Who is it?'

'It's John, love. Could you hurry up, only I'm about to piss me pants out here and the situation is quite serious indeed.'

I gasped. John Lennon? He was staying in my hotel, in my corridor? My mother had booked a weekend in the Monarch hotel near Waterloo Station for my birthday. I had no idea that The Beatles were here too. They weren't playing. Perhaps it was just a treat for them between gigs, a chance to unwind without having to rush to a concert. My voice was quaking as I responded to him. Keep it together, Michelle.

'Just a moment, Mr. Lennon, I'm drying my hands.'

I heard him laugh.

'Mr. Lennon? Christ, can I go anywhere without people talking to me like I'm a nobleman! I like it though. Sorry love, if I'd know there was a lady in here I'd have gone elsewhere.'

A blush crept across my face. Lady, he'd said! Oh dear. Must keep emotions firmly in check. I'm sure they had enough swooning girls flocking to them.

'Oh, I'm sorry, just trying to be polite...,' I trailed off, folding the towel and leaving it back on the rack. The thought of opening the door and facing him made my legs buckle. Would he try to flirt with me? Of course he would. He was John bloody Lennon!

'Y'know, much as I'm enriched by our chat, I really am bursting, love. Could you perhaps open the door and let me go? I promise I won't leak on you.'

I giggled and opened the door. There he was, in shirt and black trousers. His hair as floppy and shiny as on the television. His eyes roved over my body. I tensed. I didn't like being looked at like I was a piece of steak. He noticed me bristle and placed his arm on the door frame, leaning towards me. The intoxicating smell of his aftershave made my breath catch in my throat. I scolded myself. This man did not need another ego boost.

'I won't bite, darling, don't worry. Lovely dress, by the way.'

He fingered the collar of my pale blue dress, a gift from my father. Dad had a keen eye for clothes because he was a respected tailor in East London, where we lived.

'Thank you, sir. My dad bought it for me for my birthday.'

'Oh yes? Wait here, I'll relieve myself and then we'll get tea, alright?'

He shut the door and I could hear him..relieve himself. I smirked. John Lennon pissing right behind the door, wait till Cheryl heard this. She'd wet herself! Tea with John. Mum had gone to buy a present for Dad as his birthday was the following week. I'd stayed behind to read some magazines. We were to have a meal in the fancy hotel restaurant at eight that evening. Now, it was only four o'clock and John Lennon wanted to take me to tea. How splendid this afternoon was!

John opened the door and smiled. I could feel my face blazing again and cursed myself. He only chuckled and was kind enough not to tease me.

'Come with me back to my room and we'll have tea. D'you like chocolate biscuits? Probably not with that figure but you can make an exception. Happy birthday by the way. How old are you?'

He remembered! He thought I had a nice figure. He wanted to bring me to his bedroom. Oh my goodness Michelle, deep breaths, calm, calm.

'Sixteen.'

'Sixteen, difficult age. Lot of emotions, eh? Got a man?'

I shook my head.

'Sorry, don't mean to embarrass you. Come with me, er..?'

'Michelle.'

'Michelle.'

He lead me to his plush, spacious room and encouraged me to sit in a squashy and intensely comfortable armchair. He watched me as I sipped my tea.

'That dress brings out your eyes, Michelle. Don't mean to sound sleazy but you're very pretty. You'll have a boyfriend soon enough, darling.'

I smiled at him. What a gentleman. Not at all as coarse as the press led you to believe. He saw the surprise in my eyes and grinned.

'I suppose you thought I brought you here to sleep with you, yes? Aw, don't listen to those despicable journalists. I'm really quite decent, you see.'

I nodded.

'Yes, you're very kind, John. This tea's wonderful. You're wonderful.'

I could've slapped myself for being so drippy. _You're wonderful. _Ugh.

'Thank you Michelle, dear. You're not so bad yourself. Tell me, any plans for tonight?'

'Yes, Mum and I are going for dinner. You?'

'Brian Epstein, our manager, is taking us to the theatre. You see, we're off this weekend and it's Brian's birthday too so he dragged us here. It's quite nice really. I was in the private jacuzzi all morning, we had steak for lunch and now I'm relaxing with a sweetheart called Michelle. Sorry if I sound a bit too smooth, love.'

I shook my head. I didn't mind being called sweet by John.

'Oh I see. Very nice. These biscuits are delicious. Can I ask what book is on your bed?'

'_The Grapes of Wrath, _Steinbeck. I've read it before actually. Very moving, very good. Have you read it at school?'

'Oh yes, I love Steinbeck, especially _The Pearl._'

John watched me intently.

'Smart girl then Michelle, I'm very impressed. Most girls just throw themselves at me and can only talk about hair curlers and lipstick.'

I laughed.

'Well, I love to read.'

' Me too. Always have a book with me. Nothing I like better, apart from singing of course.'

We made pleasant conversation like this over cups of tea and snacks for two hours before Paul McCartney sauntered in. His hair was messy and his shirt rumpled and sticking out from his trousers. He smiled at me and I melted a bit.

'Hello dear. Who are you and what's John been telling you? Don't believe a word of it!'

I shook his hand and introduced myself. He gushed about how much he loved my name and then stole half of my biscuit. I pretended to be annoyed and playfully slapped him on the arm. To my shock, he pulled me close and kissed me on the lips. I shrieked and touched my lips, noting that they were pulsating.

'There, I gave you the crumbs. Tell your friends.'

John's eyes, to my discomfort, burned and he asked Paul to leave. Paul looked puzzled but obliged and blew me a kiss before ducking out the door.

'Bloody Paul, always trying to get into some girl's knickers,' John muttered.

I shrugged.

'It was only a kiss.'

'For now,' John retorted, an icy tendril caressing his voice. I shivered.

'Paul may seem innocent, like a puppy, but he's far from it. He's a charmer, he draws you in then leaves before you wake up. I've seen it too often. You're too good for him. Believe me, I've known Paul for years. He's dangerous.'

'Honestly, he doesn't look that dangerous. You didn't have to be so rude.'

I couldn't believe I was challenging a Beatle. What had I become!

John eyed me.

'What do you know about it?,' he snapped. This was the John I'd anticipated.

'Don't patronise me,' I shot back, getting to my feet and draining my tea. He waved his arm at me.

'Leave, you insufferable girl. You _are _just like the others after all, you tart!'

I slapped him across the cheek. Hard. He blanched and snarled at me to leave. I snatched up my purse and ran along the corridor. When I got to my room, Mum was reapplying her lipstick. I buried my head in her shoulder and wept. She was startled but asked no questions as she smoothed my hair. In one afternoon on my sixteenth birthday, I'd alienated John Lennon and been kissed by Paul McCartney. Sweet sixteen indeed.


End file.
